


Occasional Babysitter

by Atisenia



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Kid Sherlock, Med Student John, Tumblr: letswritesherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-16
Updated: 2014-05-16
Packaged: 2018-01-25 06:51:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1637471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atisenia/pseuds/Atisenia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been months since Mrs Holmes snatched John out of the street and turned him into a babysitter for her son. And sometimes John needs to do some damage control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Occasional Babysitter

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Let's Write Sherlock [challenge 12](http://letswritesherlock.tumblr.com/post/82925572098/challenge-12-create-a-story-in).
> 
> I've had this need to write a Kidlock fic for a long while now. I don't have enough time to fully plan a multichapter fic, so this will do for now. It might turn into a series later, though we'll see about that. It's very loosely based on my cousin's situation.
> 
> Not a native speaker. I rewrote it and edited it but you'll probably find some mistakes anyway. Sorry about that and if you let me know, I can fix them.;)

John stood on the edge of the forest that surrounded the Holmes’ secluded house and took a deep breath. No one followed him and he couldn’t decide if it made him more angry or relieved. He took a step, then another, and then he started walking as quietly as he could. Sherlock was, in some aspects, like a wild animal. If John let him know he was looking for him, the boy would hide and no one would be able to find him for hours.

Comforting him shouldn’t be solely John’s job and yet here he was again. It couldn’t be any other way since the very day he met Sherlock.

When John reached the familiar narrow stream, the area seemed deserted but he got a glimpse of a red mass of fur hidden in the bushes.

“I know you’re here, Sherlock,” he said. “You may be able to climb trees but Redbeard’s not.”

After a brief moment of predictable silence John smiled and whistled. He heard a rustle in the bushes followed by enthusiastic barking when Redbeard ran to him. John bent down to pet him.

“See?” he said with a smile.

A rope appeared between the branches of one of the trees by the stream and a very unhappy Sherlock climbed it down all the way to the ground.

“Traitor,” he muttered at his dog and pouted, folding his arms with exaggerated theatricality. John raised his eyebrows at the boy and Sherlock sighed and came closer, looking resigned instead of angry. “I told her not to tell you,” he said and sat on the ground. Redbeard immediately laid his head on Sherlock’s lap and the boy hugged him tightly.

“Well, she was pretty upset,” John said and looked around. Somewhere near, there should be a raft they built together, a pirate ship, unless Sherlock decided to sink it.

“That doesn’t mean she can tell you my secrets,” Sherlock laid his little head on Redbeard’s back.

“And you can steal from her?”

Sherlock straightened up and sent John a sharp, accusing glare.

“It’s for an experiment!” he said angrily.

John closed his eyes and counted to ten. Sherlock’s experiments were questionable at best but his parents usually indulged him up to a certain point. If Sherlock felt a need to steal money instead of asking for it, it couldn’t be good.

“Why don’t we board your ship, hm?” John suggested and sent Sherlock a reassuring smile. Or that was what he intended, but judging from Sherlock’s narrowed eyes, he wasn’t very successful. “You could tell me all about your experiment.”

Sherlock didn’t look convinced but followed John to the stream where the raft lay hidden under the cover of fallen branches and leaves.

“Camouflage?” John asked and smiled at Sherlock. “That’s clever.”

Sherlock’s mouth twitched in the way it always did when he was pleased but didn’t want to show it.

“You can’t trust other pirates,” he said proudly.

“Of course not.” John started getting the branches out of the way. “If someone took your ship, you’d have to get it back.”

Sherlock’s eyes brightened and John kicked himself mentally. If any child could start a genuine war over a stolen raft, it would be Sherlock. Luckily for the ship, there weren’t many children in the neighbourhood, though Sherlock could use some more company.

“I have you,” the boy said, startling John. He was entirely too perceptive.

“Yes you do,” John said and pointed at the branches still covering the raft. Sherlock sighed and helped him, occasionally throwing Redbeard a rubber ball.

“Mummy says I shouldn’t teach him tricks,” Sherlock said when they cleared all the branches and both observed Redbeard’s chase after the ball.

“And why is that?” John asked.

Sherlock bent down to retrieve the ball from Redbeard’s clenched jaw and ruffled his fur. He threw the ball again and then looked at John.

“He’s old,” he said quietly.

John was about to ask him to clarify but then Sherlock smiled at him and hopped on the raft. John shook his head with a corresponding smile.

“Permission to come aboard?”

“Granted.”

They both sat on the raft and waited for Redbeard to join them. Sherlock manoeuvred the dog to lie between them.

“I lost my hat,” Sherlock said. “I think it might have fallen into the stream.”

It was a simple newspaper hat that he made for Sherlock when they first played at being pirates. Sherlock could make himself one with his eyes closed but he seemed strangely fond of that first one.

“I’ll make you a new one,” John said.

Sherlock beamed at him, then lay on the dog again and looked at John with deceptively innocent expression. Which reminded John that they should discuss the topic Sherlock wanted to avoid so much.

“So... about that money you stole,” he started. The boy rolled his eyes and sighed.

“I think Redbeard might be hungry,” he said quickly and stood up. “Maybe we should go back.”

“Sherlock—”

“Is the sun getting lower?”

“Sherlock, sit down.” The boy looked at John with a defiant expression. “Please. I won’t be mad at you.”

“You will be!” Sherlock said and crossed his arms.

“No, I promise.” The boy still looked unconvinced. “Have I ever broken a promise?”

Sherlock cocked his head, considering, but finally nodded and sat back beside Redbeard. He pulled his knees to his chest and hugged them with his arms.

“So... what did you need the money for?” John asked when Sherlock didn’t seem inclined to begin.

“I told you,” Sherlock mumbled into his knees. “It was an experiment.”

“Experiment in what?”

What followed was a long moment of silence. Redbeard put his head on Sherlock’s stomach, as if he could sense that the boy needed some comfort.

“Sherlock?”

“Your feeble little mind couldn’t even begin to comprehend the depths and complexities of it.”

John blinked at him, now seriously worried.

“What’s wrong?” he asked and made a move to hug Sherlock but the boy flinched away.

“Nothing.”

“Sherlock, you only use big words like that when something’s wrong.”

Sherlock stared at him for a moment like John suddenly became interesting. Then he averted his eyes and started petting Redbeard.

“I bought... food,” he said quietly.

Well, that was certainly not what John was expecting.

“Food?” he repeated with a frown.

“Yes, John, food,” Sherlock scoffed at him. “It’s this thing you put in your mouth in order to survive, or so I was told.”

“What kind of food?”

“Chocolate.”

“And what could you possibly get from experimenting on chocolate?”

Sherlock clenched his jaw and tightened his grip on Redbeard until the dog whimpered and Sherlock let go of him completely.

“I’m observing,” he started with caution, “the social response to positive reinforcement.” He looked at John. “Chocolate is the incentive.”

John blinked at him, trying to see behind the actual words. Sherlock clearly didn’t want John to know what happened, which only made John more determined to find out. The boy was always willing to share the specific conditions of his experiments, even the more dangerous ones. The fact that he didn’t this time had John seriously worried.

“You conduct psychological experiments on other children?” John asked and frowned. It didn’t sound quite right but Sherlock nodded and looked relieved. “So you bought the chocolate and... what? Asked the students to do something for you? Rewarded them when they did something mad?”

But that didn’t sound right either.

Sherlock hesitated and then said, very quietly, “no”.

“What then?” The boy remained stubbornly silent. “Come on, Sherlock, you know I’m rubbish at deducing things.” Sherlock clenched his jaw and mumbled something incomprehensible into Redbeard’s fur. “Sorry, what?”

“I wanted them to like me, ok?” Sherlock exclaimed unhappily. His eyes went wide and he burrowed his face in Redbeard’s fur again.

John stared at him in shock, his mouth moving without a sound. He made a move to embrace Sherlock but the boy flinched away again. John sighed and let his hand fall on top of Redbeard’s head.

“You know... chocolate won’t make them like you,” John said gently.

Sherlock tensed but then made himself relax.

“Yes, well, I told you it was an experiment,” he said, trying to sound bored and failing.

“You did,” John played with Redbeard’s ear. “And what are the results?”

Sherlock finally looked at him, his eyes lacking their usual glow.

“Unsatisfactory,” he said and threw Redbeard the ball. The dog ran after it, barking happily. Sherlock kept his eyes on him, hugging his legs again.

“For what it’s worth,” John started carefully, “I think they would be very fortunate to have you as a friend.”

Sherlock scoffed at him.

“You’re my nanny,” he sneered. “You have to tell me things like this. You... you’re _paid_ to do it.”

“Occasional babysitter,” John corrected. “And only because you’d explode your own head in the name of science, but... Sherlock, my arrangement with your mother is over.”

Sherlock looked at him sharply and ignored Redbeard’s attempts to get his attention.

“It can’t be,” he said, a panicked note in his voice. “You can’t go!”

“Sherlock—”

“It’s me, isn’t it? I’ll try to be better, John!” Now Sherlock sounded just desperate and John didn’t like it one bit. “I... I won’t experiment on your books again.”

“You... what? Well, never mind that now. Sherlock, listen to m—”

“No!” Sherlock stood up abruptly, startling the dog. “Is this about the money? I—I’ll get it back. I’ll find a job and I’ll... I’ll keep paying you if Mummy won’t.“

“Sherlock, just—”

“Or I’ll ask Mycroft.” He didn’t even grimace. “I’ll sleep more. Well, I’ll try to, I— I’ll be better, John, I promise! Just don’t leave.”

Sherlock finally stopped talking and looked at John with pleading eyes. He wasn’t ever supposed to look like this. John tried to hug him again and this time Sherlock went willingly, clinging to him the way he did with Redbeard.

“I’m not going anywhere, Sherlock,” John said gently.

“But... you said...” Sherlock breathed out and, God, he might actually be crying. John tightened his grip on him.

“I said my arrangement with your mum is over, yes, but Sherlock, it ended three months ago.”

Sherlock pushed away to better look at John and, sure enough, his eyes were red and watery.

“What?”

“We only agreed on a one month trial run,” John explained, looking Sherlock right in the eyes so he’d know John was telling the truth. “When she asked me if I wanted to continue, I only said ‘no’ because med school is too demanding and I couldn’t turn watching you into a full-time occupation.”

“But... but you always came back. And she didn’t hire anyone new.”

John smiled at him fondly and ruffled his hair, just to see Sherlock’s little pout.

“As if I could stay away from you,” John said softly. “You’re my friend. Hell, you’re probably the best friend I have right now. I try not to think about what this says about me.”

Sherlock went very still. He looked at John like he’d never seen him before or, quite possibly, like he just didn’t see him standing there. He didn’t move, didn’t even blink.

“Uh... Sherlock?” John waved a hand in front of the boy’s face. “I didn’t mean it like that, you know. In a bad way, I mean.”

Sherlock finally blinked several times in quick succession. Awareness came back into those young mesmerizing eyes.

“You... but I’m a child!” he said.

“Doesn’t mean you’re not brilliant,” John said and smiled at him. “And you are, Sherlock, absolutely amazing.” Sherlock smiled at him sheepishly and blushed. “Of course, you’re also an idiot.”

Sherlock snorted and looked at him with an imitation of Mycroft’s condescending glare.

“Not bigger than you are,” he said.

John ruffled his hair again and Sherlock jumped away, nearly stepping on Redbeard’s tail.

“Your mother was making pizza went I left,” John said.

Sherlock grimaced.

“She has a healthy food phase,” he complained. “It will be horrid.”

“Still. It’s pizza.”

Sherlock let out an exaggerated sigh.

I suppose Redbeard could use some food,” he said with great reluctance. “I’ll probably get sent to bed without dinner.”

“Oh, I think you might get an extra piece as a punishment.”

Sherlock pouted and crossed his arms.

“I’ll talk to your mum,” John said and started walking.

“No!” Sherlock jogged after him with Redbeard right beside him. “She mustn’t—”

“Don’t worry. I’ll... figure out what to tell her.”

Sherlock didn’t respond but when a small hand bumped against his, John took it and squeezed.

 


End file.
